


Messages

by Kalira



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Domestic, Fade to Black, M/M, MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020, Married Couple, POV Multiple, Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito (background), Soulmates, Teasing, Writing on Skin, playful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Soulnotes are a revered and special sign of one's soulmate, even after they've been found, and every message offered on one's skin is to be cherished.. . .even, one supposes, if one's soulmate uses it as an easy way to get one's attention.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 24
Kudos: 466
Collections: MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020





	Messages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thevoidbetweenus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thevoidbetweenus/gifts).



> Written for [tsunbian](https://tsunbian.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr as part of the [MadaTobi Gift Exchange](https://madatobigiftexchange.tumblr.com/) 2019/2020! I hope you enjoy~

Madara smiled reflexively as he felt the soft, spreading warmth of a Soulnote in his left palm just as he was approaching the market. He paused on the edge of the rooftop before leaping off, and raised his hand, only to stare at it for a moment.

_While you’re at the market, would you acquire a few more things?_

Madara sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Of course. He flickered his chakra in something of an answer, knowing Tobirama would be focused on him. At least, he supposed, it wasn’t a fuinjutsu formula this time. Even if Tobirama had insisted it was partial, and wouldn’t have done anything in such a form _anyway_ , it . . . had been unnerving. And of course there was no way to _remove_ it. Even trying to find one only brought an assortment of shocked and disapproving looks, the moment anyone realised.

 _Hiding_ a Soulnote was one thing, but trying to remove even the slightest sign offered by one’s soulmate, even after finding them? Unthinkable.

Most people, Madara thought as his forearm warmed comfortably, were not married to his husband.

Madara glanced over the three items Tobirama was asking for, mentally arranged his own purchases along with them into the most efficient pattern, and made his way through the marketplace. He had purchased four items when his arm warmed again.

Madara pushed up his sleeve and sighed as he read off two more things and turned back around, heading for the single fabric shop that sold the type of thick, undyed material Tobirama wanted. He was still measuring off fabric when his forearm warmed again and he didn’t glance at it until the fabric was tucked into the basket he carried. No more fabric. He left the shop and carried on.

He was hardly even surprised when between two stops barely a few minutes later his forearm warmed again. He sighed and pushed his sleeve up even further, _drat_ that man, and read off what _else_ his husband had thought of that they needed in the market as he tucked the tea into the basket he carried.

Back to the tea shop, first of all, since he had barely stepped out of it and he happened to know they had his husband’s favourite sencha _and_ the sea witch’s favourite peppery blend.

Madara turned around and wondered as he stepped back into the tea shop if Tobirama would think of anything else before he left it again.

* * *

Amara eyed Uchiha-sama warily as he stopped in the middle of the street and . . . _muttered_ to himself, then shifted the bundles he carried and shoved up his left sleeve. There were characters spreading surprisingly thickly over his skin, and she blinked. He kept pushing, higher than his elbow, frowning, and craned his neck. Then he wheeled around and stomped back the way he had come as his sleeve fell back into place.

She shook her head slightly, a bit alarmed, and went back to sorting bundles of herbs and dried flowers. She was surprised a few minutes later when a gruff wordless noise interrupted her focus, and she nearly tipped a bundle of yaguriku onto the ground as her head shot up. “Oh! Uchiha-sama! My apologies!” she said breathlessly as Uchiha-sama loomed impatiently, scowling. “Sorry, sorry!” she said again as she quickly sorted away her lapful of dried flowers and rose, thinking a bit bitterly that the ninja in her own clan at least made noise on _purpose_ when they were around ordinary folk.

Uchiha-sama remained silent as Amara waited, and she restrained a sigh.

“What may I help you with?” Amara prompted with a polite smile.

“Ah.” Uchiha-sama said, and put down his bundles on the ground at his feet, shoving up his sleeve again. Amara averted her eyes politely from his Soulnotes, which _most people_ would not even have _revealed_ so clearly when standing so near a stranger.

. . .allowances could be made, of course, for newly-matched pairs, or those who were searching and had just begun to receive their first Soulnotes, but Uchiha-sama and Senju-sama had been _married_ for just over a year.

Fortunately a moment later Uchiha-sama began to rattle off a string of very specific requests, pausing just long enough to allow Amara to gather what he needed. Amara hummed to herself as she worked, efficiently bundling and tying off each separate variety he asked for, and soon Uchiha-sama was satisfied, paid without haggling - she always hated it when people tried, particularly those with no idea what her business entailed - and stomped off to scare the life out of someone _else_.

Amara sniffed and watched him go for a moment, then settled down with her yaguriku to sort and process once more.

* * *

Madara had left the marketplace behind and was halfway back to the Uchiha compound when a soft warmth tickled over his _right_ forearm, near the elbow.

“I swear to the fucking kami, you _unreasonable_ , impossible-” Madara all but _dropped_ his many - many - bundles from the market and shoved up his sleeve. Of course it was his right arm; there was hardly a patch of skin on his left arm that was _not_ already covered in ink from Tobirama’s numerous requests, and corrections and addendums to his earlier requests. “What do you want _now_ \- Oh.”

Madara felt his cheeks warming as he looked at the slanted, spiky characters.

_Thank you for doing so much, love you._

Madara ducked his head, licking his lips as he looked at the characters, brushing his fingers over them and allowing himself, this time, to actually enjoy the already-fading soft warmth of the Soulnote.

Madara shook his head, stroking them again, then collected his basket and parcels again and continued on his way home, a little faster this time.

Tobirama was curled at the desk in the room that opened on the side of the garden nearest the koi pond, papers all around him and - of course - fresh ink at his side. Madara left everything he’d bought in the main room - he’d put things away later; it had been a wearing, frustrating shopping trip - and made his way to his husband’s side.

Tobirama looked up with a smile as Madara approached, and he snorted as he saw the strokes of ink covering Tobirama’s left arm from mid-bicep to wrist and palm.

He dropped down beside Tobirama. “You are _so_ frustrating.” he huffed, nudging firmly against Tobirama’s side. “Obnoxious man. I have all your shopping.” he added, resting his head on Tobirama’s shoulder as his husband wrapped an arm around him.

“Thank you, my love.” Tobirama said warmly, tugging Madara more firmly against his side and nuzzling his hair. “Truly your patience is a wonder.”

“It better be.” Madara grouched, a smile tugging at his lips. He stretched out his fingers and snagged one of Tobirama’s brushes that he was not using, dipping it in the inkwell while Tobirama was ruffling through his papers one-handed.

 _Love_ , Madara wrote on the back of his left hand.

Tobirama’s breath caught and he lifted his hand, tilting it to look. He laughed, soft and surprised, and Madara lifted his head to catch the warm look on his husband’s face.

Tobirama cupped Madara’s jaw, pressing a kiss to his lips. “So much.” he murmured against Madara’s mouth.

They left Tobirama’s work where it was for a time, slipping out to the garden to enjoy the warmth of the breezy day by the koi pond.

* * *

“I wondered about the interplay,” Tobirama said, frowning slightly as he traced an arc just outside the rough sketch of a fuinjutsu Mito had laid out on a bit of scratch paper, “not just with _these_ , but with-” he broke off, breath hitching, as soft warmth bloomed low on his belly.

He focused on the strokes carefully; Madara was spacing each stroke out just enough to make each one out as a separate sensation. Tobirama collected the strokes in his mind, after a brief hiccup as he wasn’t sure if Madara was writing upside down or not, and made sense of them just as a broad sweep downwards almost all the way to the base of his cock made him tense, eyes widening.

 _Come home soon. Please. I very much want this._ Madara had written, Tobirama put it all together just as Madara added a point to the _arrow_ he had drawn leading directly to his cock.

Tobirama nearly choked, barely hearing Mito’s concerned question. She touched his arm and he shook his head, taking a sip of tea and coughing, then putting his head down almost on the table. Oh _kami_ , that man.

* * *

Mito watched her brother-in-law curiously as he suddenly broke off midsentence; he looked distracted and faraway, a faint smile playing around his lips and his eyes warming from the analytical light to something softer.

Mito hummed softly, pouring a little more tea - it was nearly cold; they _had_ been discussing fuinjutsu theory for a little longer than, perhaps, either of them had intended - and inspected Tobirama carefully. He’d tensed, his eyes wide, barely breathing.

His chest jerked suddenly, and his eyes widened even further. He gasped and nearly knocked his mostly empty cup of tea off the table with a twitch of his hand.

“Tobi? Dear, are you all right?” Mito asked, reaching out and resting a hand on his forearm. She had thought perhaps Madara- But he looked _distressed_. Perhaps he had sensed something - one of the teams coming back in today - that had him upset or on alert.

Tobirama shook his head hard, grabbing his cup ungracefully and taking a hurried sip, then putting it back down as he wheezed, choking. “Fine.” he said, though Mito didn’t think he was actually paying any mind to her, or indeed anything else in the room.

Tobirama pushed his cup away a little further as he bent over, bracing his forearm on the table, right across some of his notes. Fortunately Mito thought they were mostly dry, so he was unlikely to have gotten any ink on himself.

Any _more_ ink on himself, in any case, she knew she’d seen him writing something on his wrist earlier, before he replaced the bracer and bells he wore there. Mito would, of course, never be so crass as to ask about a Soulnote, but she would privately admit to some curiosity rising in her as Tobirama joined her at the tea table still wearing the warm smile that was reserved for his husband, _not_ the one Mito ever got from him.

“Are you sure you’re quite all right, Tobi?” Mito asked as Tobirama finally straightened again, his breathing mostly even.

“Quite- I am, yes, thank you, Mito.” Tobirama said with a small shake of his head. “I apologise. I was merely. . .”

“Mm.” Mito hummed, arching a brow.

“I believe this is rather later than we intended to speak,” Tobirama said after another moment. “Perhaps-”

“Perhaps you should get back to your husband,” Mito suggested smoothly, “and we can both put some private thought into your theories, then. . .”

“Two days from now?” Tobirama suggested, and Mito smiled, agreeing happily and shooing Tobirama out and on his way home when he attempted to linger to help her tidy up. It might not be an _emergency_ , or anything distressing, that had broken Tobirama’s focus and so discomfited him, but, well. . .

Mito shooed him back to his husband and sighed as she counted the time until her own returned.

Finished clearing away the remnants of their tea together, Mito collected her finest brush and clean ink on her way to the bedroom.

* * *

Tobirama hadn’t exactly _rushed_ on his way home, but he hadn’t really _lingered_ , either . . . and perhaps his pace had been a little closer to the former than the latter. He didn’t slow much as he reached his own front door and breezed through it.

“Madara!”

“Isn’t the usual _tadaima_?” Madara asked, and Tobirama turned towards him, slamming the door closed and eyeing his husband with narrowed eyes, not dropping his gaze as he removed his sandals and stepped up from the genkan.

He could _see_ Madara’s breath catch and almost feel the flutter of his husband’s pulse speeding as he approached. Madara was wearing nothing more than a summer yukata, which gaped open almost to the obi, and Tobirama could see the top of the message he had written on his belly just above where the fabric met.

The _first_ message.

While Tobirama had been running home, Madara had written _on his cock_ , the impatient, unbelievable man. _Those_ strokes Tobirama hadn’t been able to keep the presence of mind about himself to put together into full characters, and he certainly hadn’t stopped to _drop his pants and read them_ , and he had no idea what Madara had written there.

“Do you _want_ something, my love?” Tobirama asked silkily, and watched a shiver run through Madara as the corners of his mouth twitched towards a smile and his fingers flexed.

“Perhaps.” Madara said, clearing his throat and tilting his head, his wild hair fluffing around his shoulders as he took half a step back.

Tobirama smirked, sharp and sudden. “So much you simply _couldn’t_ wait, I gather.”

“It’s our day off.” Madara said, his voice low and a little rough. The deep tone sent a shiver down Tobirama’s spine as he approached. “Our _one_ day off this week. You were gone for _hours_ longer than you planned to be.” Madara added with something he would probably not be willing to admit was a pout.

Tobirama unwound his sash and let it fall, his shirt following a moment later, leaving them on the floor of the main room as he continued towards Madara in slow, measured steps. “I lost track of time.” he admitted. “I did wish to spend most of the day with you, given we both had the opportunity.”

He hadn’t _necessarily_ hoped to spend it in bed, but then, he hadn’t any objections to that plan, either, and _Madara_ seemed rather intent on it.

“And now you’re home.” Madara said, clearing his throat and glancing behind himself, though they both knew their way through their home blind.

“I am.” Tobirama agreed, and smirked a little, sliding his fingers over his stomach to rest on his waistband. “And so are you.”

“Yes.” Madara agreed, eyes locking on Tobirama’s hands.

“I gather you had a suggestion for how to spend our afternoon.” Tobirama teased in an even tone, and Madara made a choked little sound that was half-laugh, half-moan. Tobirama smiled and closed in on him as he backed away further.

“I might have a few ideas.” Madara agreed, nodding, lips curling. “Yes.”

Pants undone, Tobirama pounced on his husband, tumbling them across the floor until they fetched up near the open wall that let out onto the garden. Fortunately it was walled off well and was just as private as the inside of their home. Tobirama didn’t hesitate before continuing and Madara _certainly_ offered no hindrance as fabric fell away under his exploring hands.

_Home. Want this. In me._

Tobirama laughed as his fingers covered the words, and Madara’s fingers wound into his hair, drawing him into a kiss as they moved together.


End file.
